


Melt You Down

by lady_ragnell



Series: Melt You Down [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Slash, See notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has an unsettling encounter while breaking his sister out of a Pendragon Corp facility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melt You Down

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** some violence, references to torture and mind control.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/21103.html?thread=21022063#t21022063) at kinkme_merlin.
> 
> Title from "Volcanoes" by Damien Rice.

The cold barrel of the gun feels like a winter kiss against Merlin’s temple, but the body pressed into his back and the arm around his chest are warm.

“If one of you moves, I shoot.”

Whoever’s holding him has a low, even voice, and the gun never twitches from its position. He’s brave, especially because he must guess what they are, and maybe even why they’re in the basement of Pendragon Corp at two o’clock on a Tuesday morning. _I could break you in half,_ Merlin thinks, half sad and half amused. _I could reduce you to atoms, but more to the point, so could they, and they won’t wonder if you’ve got kids at home._ “Don’t,” he whispers.

“That’s right.” He can hear the man’s smirk, and doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he was telling them not to kill unless it became necessary. They’re the first group to risk Uther Pendragon’s impregnable fortress for a rescue of one of his “volunteer test subjects,” and if the articles are about murder and their magic blazing up the night, no one will ever dare again. If they get in and get out without hurting anyone, they might be forgiven. “Now, tell me what you’re doing in my building.”

His? Merlin can’t twist far enough to see his face, clasped as tight as he is, but the body and the energy surrounding him feel young, far too young to be Uther. Morgause speaks for them. “Arthur Pendragon. Doing your father’s dirty work?”

“Protecting the interests of my company.” The gun never moves, and it’s getting skin-warm. Gilli catches his eye, asking silently why Merlin hasn’t disabled the bullets. Merlin doesn’t have an answer for him. “And I can guess exactly why you’re here. Father says it happens all the time. Sorcerers wanting to ‘rescue’ the volunteers, though I must say that you’re braver than most if you’re actually trying it. They sign the waivers, you know, every one of them. I check them all. Just because you don’t want to be freed of your curse doesn’t mean they don’t.” Pendragon slides his hand up Merlin’s chest to rest against the base of his throat. “This one’s here to do the rescuing. The rest of you lot just want to make a point. Does that about cover it?”

Stony silence from the other three, and Merlin is too busy realizing that Pendragon _doesn’t know_ to speak. He sits in some pretty office and cheerfully signs off on volunteer waivers and doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand what his father does to get those signatures. Doesn’t understand that no one, _no one_ with magic in their veins will ever want to give it up. Even those like Freya, who got cursed and had to go to a clinic that led to her locked up in the bowels of this building, can’t imagine anything else. “You poor sod,” he says, and relaxes into the hold.

The hand not holding the gun moves up his throat and presses until he tips his head back onto Pendragon’s shoulder, catching a fragmented glimpse of strong jaw and angry blue eyes in the dim light. “You aren’t in a position to be patronizing,” he hisses, and raises his voice again. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you all arrested.”

Morgause and Gilli both open their mouths to say something. Fay, their woman on the inside, who came to them when she heard that Morgause might just be foolhardy enough to breach Pendragon Corp’s security, just shifts her weight, hood still over her face. Merlin turns his head, not enough to move the gun from his temple, and whispers in Pendragon’s ear. “Because you haven’t already called them.”

This isn’t a game, this isn’t fun, this is his sister’s life, but Merlin can’t help his smile when Pendragon’s angry calm is shaken with confusion for just a second. He still doesn’t realize that if he’d wanted to kill Merlin he should have shot him instantly, not given him time to prepare. Like too many others, though, he underestimates Merlin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you were serious, you would have called them long before now. Maybe you’re curious. Maybe you’ve finally started to wonder what your father does in those basements, and why he doesn’t tell you about it.”

“I know everything about this company,” Pendragon snaps, but his hold on Merlin gentles, and if it weren’t for the metal against his temple it would feel like an embrace. Merlin closes his eyes and the bullets dissolve into harmless dust, because it’s past time for that and Morgause looks impatient.

“You don’t know anything. You think that people would voluntarily give this up,” says Merlin, puts his hand over the one that has drifted from his throat to his jaw, and fills Pendragon with a jolt of pure power. He jerks, and the gun slides down Merlin’s cheek before going back to his temple, shaky this time while Pendragon pants behind him.

“What the fuck?”

“Pull the trigger.”

Pendragon waits just long enough to prove to himself that he isn’t obeying Merlin’s orders to do it, and he drops the gun when nothing happens, but doesn’t let Merlin go. “What did you do to it?”

Merlin floats it up from the floor, a simple spell, and waves the chamber open. The dust inside trickles to the floor. “We can do the same to you,” explains Morgause in that unflappable way she has. “Let him go.”

To Merlin’s surprise, Pendragon releases him immediately--goes so far as to shove him away. Merlin feels cold, a little bit adrift, a little bit confused. He twists to get a good look, and gets caught in Pendragon’s eyes, every bit as bewildered as he feels, hands shaking. “I should--I’m going to call--” he starts, and he doesn’t sound scared, but he doesn’t sound angry anymore either.

But he will call. He’s Uther Pendragon’s son, and they haven’t managed to get enough doubt into him. The three behind him move into formation, ready to kill him where he stands if he moves for a phone or a panic button. Merlin doesn’t look away from his eyes. “Wait five minutes before you call them. Or don’t call them, and actually figure out what’s going on here.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“Wait five minutes,” says Merlin, and puts a little power behind it. Not enough to make him obey, but enough to show him that he _could_. Pendragon’s eyes go wide and blown with something that isn’t quite panic, and Merlin thinks of the gun kissing his temple and thinks _Yeah, yes, me too_ and _Goddamn it, this isn’t happening_. “Wait.”

“Yes, okay.” Pendragon’s eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms, but he doesn’t go for any warning systems, and Faye grabs Merlin’s arm and forces him to start running down the hallway, not willing to believe him. Merlin believes him.

And sure enough, when Merlin is gathering his dazed and bright-eyed sister into his arms, while Morgause is preparing the spell that will remove them from the building without a trace now that they’re inside the shields, the alarm starts, a shrill whine. A warning, because Pendragon could have just called the police and had them there without setting anything off.

Merlin buries his face in Freya’s hair, and breathes, and breathes, and wonders if Pendragon is still shaking too.


End file.
